


a song so big ; and one so small

by setzerrrr



Series: please, keep those words [1]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Childhood Friends, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setzerrrr/pseuds/setzerrrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Moritz meets Melchior, he is eight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a song so big ; and one so small

The first time Moritz meets Melchior, he is eight.

His hair is a little too messy and his shoes never fit quite right, but Moritz is content to feel the tiny space between his toes, the _thud_ it makes when he runs. His father tells him to tie his shoes –  _the string goes through here, are you even listening to me?_  – and he nods, but it’s always Ilse who ties them before he goes home. Now Ilse is too busy weaving daisies into crowns with Wendla (at least they gave him one to wear, too). When he asks, she grins sheepishly and tells him “we can play pirates tomorrow!” and although Moritz would very much like to play today, he nods and waves his pirate captain a good-bye. He distantly wonders if she’s telling the truth.

He almost never plays with Ilse and Wendla now. His father frowns when he asks. And though he doesn’t know why, Moritz dutifully goes over to the other boys, and he runs, too. For a little while, it’s fun. But Moritz runs slowly with his too big shoes, and he soon finds himself tumbling into the grass, left behind. Moritz is too afraid to touch his knees - he sees the red and it _hurts_ , so he pulls his legs up to his chest instead.

“That must hurt,” a clear voice appears beside him, “Mama always says to get those treated fast.” Moritz looks up to find another boy, one with green eyes and neat hair and a book kneeling beside him. He gives Moritz a boyish smile.

A few seconds pass. “I think you should get that cleaned.” He says again, matter-of-factly. 

Moritz shook his head. “But father won’t be proud of me,” he whispered, “I fell because I don’t know how to tie my shoes.” The red, frayed ends of Moritz’s shoelaces hung sadly on the grass. Two hands – this time not Ilse’s - tie them back up neatly, perfect bows on each foot. “Well…” He sits, face scrunching up. “Just pull your socks up long, and he won’t see them. You can come to my house. Mama has cookies and band-aids, and I can teach you how to tie them, if you’d like.” 

A spark of jealousy – and something else – rests in Moritz’s chest. He shakes his head. “Why are you talking to me? The others will think you’re slow, too.”

The boy seemed confused by this. “That doesn’t matter.” Melchior shook his head innocently; because to the young boy, it was simple. “And, I like you.”

“Oh.” Moritz replies. He stares up at the boy with green eyes and neat hair and his book, and smiles.

His bloody knees go unseen (and if the socks look sort of funny, Melchior never speaks of it). Instead, he speaks about the trees and his new dog and the soup he’s having for dinner, and Moritz forgets that he minds skinned knees scarring forever.


End file.
